


Morning Coffee

by flooj9235



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F, awkward Sam is awkward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 13:42:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3898402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flooj9235/pseuds/flooj9235
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Samantha's not herself without her morning coffee, but getting her daily fix and starting her shift just isn't going smoothly.  Between run-ins with a foul mouthed professor and her attractive commanding officer, it'll be a miracle if Sam ever pulls herself together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Coffee

**Author's Note:**

  * For [psyrin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/psyrin/gifts).



> First attempt for this fandom, so pardon OOC-ness while I get my bearings. :)

The soft chime of her alarm dragged Samantha Traynor out of sleep, and she scowled and tried to roll away from the noise.  Her shoulder bumped into the side of the sleeper unit, and Sam swore under her breath and forced herself to wake up.  

It took her a few more minutes to convince herself that being conscious was a good thing, and it was only when EDI told her she was running late that Samantha finally forced herself to get out of the sleeper.

"Thank you, EDI," she muttered, defrosting the lid and opening it.  She got out and stretched, catching a whiff of coffee from the mess.  

Shower first, she decided, stopping at her locker to get a clean uniform before heading to the bathroom.  Five minutes and a cold shower later, Sam was decidedly more awake and much grumpier than she'd have liked.

She hoped there was still some coffee to be had, and entertained visions of herself wandering into the mess like a coffee-zombie from the 21st century.  Sam smirked, but decided she didn't feel like being subjected to an indoctrination test.

Luckily, someone had just put on a fresh pot, and Sam filled her cup almost to the brim, leaving room for sugar.  They were set to make it to Tuchanka by the end of Sam's shift, and she could only imagine the mess that the comm traffic would be.  Turian and Krogan (and probably Cerberus, because they seemed to have a knack for showing up) communications would be one large tangle, and Sam knew Shepard was relying on her to have it all sorted.

She sighed to herself and blew on her coffee as she headed for the elevator.  The doors slid open as she rounded the corner, and Traynor found herself running right into another person.

"What the fuck?!" a woman's voice snapped.

Sam found herself face to face with a woman covered in tattoos and little else, and her brain shortcircuited.  "I—"

"Watch it, ma'am.  Sanders'll make you wear an actual uniform if she hears you swearing around us."

Jack, Traynor slowly remembered, scowled at the Grissom student beside her in the elevator.  "It's too f—darn early to care."

The tattooed professor eyed Traynor again, and Sam squeaked out an apology and stepped aside.

Sam ducked her head and fled to the elevator, thanking the stars that her coffee hadn't spilled all over either of them.  She had a nagging feeling that Jack would have smeared the walls with her brain.

Traynor made it to the CIC without further incident, relieved the on-duty comm specialist, and started going over reports.  She set the coffee cup on her desk and began channeling some lower level communications as she caught up on what had happened overnight.  Traynor checked her own messages and smiled to herself when she saw a note from her parents, then focused on preparing for the influx of Turian and Krogan communications to come.

"I hear you had a literal run-in with the Normandy's resident ex-convict," an amused voice said from behind her.

Sam barely stifled a yelp and jumped, knocking her coffee over.  After a split second of panic, she closed her eyes and swallowed a rush of gratitude that she was working with holo screens.  "I... yes, Commander."

"Woah, easy there, Traynor," Shepard teased.  "Don't pull rank on me this early."

Sam crouched down and picked up her cup, then turned to offer Shepard a witty retort.  For the second time that morning, her brain decided to malfunction.  Shepard had obviously just finished a workout; the commander was slightly sweaty, still in a tank top and N7 shorts.  Samantha grappled for words, trying not to let her eyes linger on any particular spot.

Shepard eyed the puddle on the floor, then glanced up at the ceiling.  "EDI, can you get someone up here to clean up a mess?"

"Of course, Shepard."

"Thanks."  The commander returned her gaze to Traynor, a smile giving way to a more professional expression.  "Anything I should know?"

Samantha shook her head wordlessly, then swallowed and cleared her throat.  "No new messages for you, Commander. And no word from Admirals Hackett or Anderson. I'm preparing to handle comm traffic later, and apparently spilling my coffee everywhere."

The faint smirk returned to Shepard's face.  "Apparently.  Keep up the good work, Traynor.  And try not to spill anything again, okay?"

"Yes ma'am."  Sam saluted weakly, then forced herself not to watch as Shepard turned and walked to the elevator.

A janitor came to clean the spilled coffee a few moments later, and Sam stepped aside and berated herself for gawking at her commanding officer like a teenager.  Even if her commanding officer was very fit and strong and hellishly attractive.  Shut up, Samantha told herself.  

She thanked the janitor when he left, then threw herself into setting up communication pipes and preparing analyses for their arrival at Tuchanka.  The work was distracting, and soon Samantha was in her element, fingers flying over the screens.

She almost didn't notice when someone approached her, and it took Shepard clearing her throat to snap Sam out of her thoughts.  The comm specialist wheeled around, an apology on her lips, but was met with the sight of Shepard in her uniform, a smile on her face, and a fresh cup of coffee in her extended hand.

"To replace the one from earlier," Shepard clarified when Sam gawked at her.

"I—oh.  Thank you."  Samantha took the coffee cup gingerly and tucked some loose hair behind her ear.  "Uh, Commander.  Thank you, Commander.  Yes."

Shepard's smile grew as Samantha babbled.

"Sorry." Samantha turned back to her screens and pretended her cheeks weren't flaming.

Shepard stepped up onto the platform overlooking the galaxy map and took stock of the CIC.  

Samantha watched the commander out of the corner of her eye, then mentally slapped herself for admiring the sharp figure Shepard cut in her uniform.  She snapped her gaze back to her screens when Shepard glanced over at her, her blush returning full force.

"Hey, Traynor," the commander said, a teasing lilt to her voice.  "I'm pretty sure it's easier to route communications if you're looking at your screens, not your CO."

"You underestimate me," Traynor sassed, then clapped a hand over her mouth.  "I mean—"

Shepard only laughed.  

Sam decided feeling foolish was worth it.

 


End file.
